


Things to Hit

by trycatpennies



Category: My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-10-19 06:50:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/198111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trycatpennies/pseuds/trycatpennies





	Things to Hit

_To: bobryar@gmail.com  
From: thingstohit@gmail.com  
Re: Pete gave me this address..._

 _Hey, this is Spencer Smith. I know we've never met, or whatever, but Pete gave me your email address. I was just wondering about something..._

 __

-

The emails start out with questions about drums, touring and band stuff. Spencer's been wanting to help mix some tracks, and he's too embarrassed to ask Patrick about basics, but he doesn't know Bob, he's never even met Bob, and so he's totally ok with sending an email to ask bullshit newbie questions about the best way to mic a drum kit, and the difference between cardiod and omni mics.

After a few weeks, they're something Spencer could call friends, and the emails are a little more personal, day to day life, and some delving into the past. At some point, Spencer realizes that he starts to get anxious when he hasn't gotten an email from Bob in a few days.

-

 _To: thingstohit@gmail.com  
From: bobryar@gmail.com  
Re: The new Vic Firths_

 _Spence, saw you guys in the new issue of GQ. Nice hickeys. You should make sure your singer stays off you the day before photoshoots._

 _-_

 _To: bobryar@gmail.com  
From: thingstohit@gmail.com  
Re: _

_He's sort of hard to stop._

-

There are no emails for a few days, Spencer worries he's scared Bob off, but after a sound check in Iowa his phone buzzes.

 _I thought no meant no. B._

Spencer blushes, just a little, and he's glad he's sort of by himself, or at least that Brendon and Ryan are too distracted by the rerun of the OC that's playing on TV, because he's about to do something that probably isn't in his best interests.

 _Yeah, unless it means yes. S_

Ten minutes later there's another buzz of his phone.

 _You like someone to tell you what to do, Spence?_

 _Yeah, I do. S._

Spencer's breathing is picking up, and he slides out of the bus lounge and heads to his bunk, climbing in and pulling the curtain closed. Two minutes later there's another text.

 _You like to be tied up? Fucked hard? Ordered around?_

Spencer's half hard in his jeans, and he licks his lips before he replies, his hands shaking a little as he types.

 _If I say yes?_

 _Then I'm going to tell you what to do._ The reply comes almost instantly, and Spencer gasps a little, pressing his hand to his cock through his jeans. He's texting back when his phone rings. He curses a little, and fumbles the phone before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?" He says, and he really really fucking hopes-

"Don't touch yourself." Comes the slightly gruff voice on the other end of the line, and Spencer pulls his hand from his jeans.

"Bob." Spencer says, and trying to sound aloof and indifferent? Yeah, failing.

"Yeah, Bob. Are you hard, Spencer? Does the idea of me telling you what to do turn you on?" Spencer nods before speaking.

"Yeah, it does."

"Good, because the idea of making you do anything I want you to do? Yeah, that turns me on." Bob's breathing is a little rushed and Spencer's cock twitches. "Tell me what you want, Spencer."

"I want to touch myself." Spencer says, and the end is a whimper, he can't help it.

"I bet you do. I'm jerking off right now, it feels amazing." Bob moans a little, proving his point. "I'm picturing you, on your knees, sucking me off." Spencer moans, and he thrusts up a little, his hands fisting in the sheets. "You want to, don't you. You want to suck on my cock, feel my hands pulling your hair."

Spencer moans again, a little more desperate. His pants are tight normally, and now they're uncomfortable to the point of pain, but it's only adding to everything else. He closes his eyes and bites his lip.

"How hard would you want me to pull it, Spencer?" Bob's breathing hard, and Spencer can see it in his head, Bob's hand on his cock, jerking off, and Spencer wants to be there, god, and he wants to come.

"Hard." Spencer finally gets out.

"You want it to hurt, don't you," Bob says, and Spencer figures Bob must be close. Spencer is, and he hasn't touched himself yet, his fingers flexing, desperate.

"Yes, jesus, yes, Bob. I want you to hurt me." Spencer's words are rushed, and Bob inhales sharply.

"Touch yourself, Spencer. Come in your pants." Spencer drops the phone to the side of the pillow and rubs himself frantically through his jeans, until he comes, harsh breath and stifled moans into the pillow.

Bob comes with him, and Spencer knows Bob's alone, because his moans are loud, he doesn't need to hide it.

Spencer grabs the phone and Bob's breathing a little heavy, and when he speaks Spencer can actually hear the smile in Bob's voice.

"We're meeting. Soon."

"Yeah. We're in Chicago next month. For a few days, actually." Because of Jon, and because of Pete, and so on.

"Good. I'll get a hotel room." Bob says, and he pauses. "Call me tomorrow."

It's an order, and Spencer's breath catches again, just a little.

"I will."

"I know. Oh, and don't change your pants, either. Not till tonight. You're going to feel what I do to you all day."

He hangs up before Spencer can speak.

-

Spencer calls Bob everyday, because Bob tells him to. The phone calls aren't all like that first one, some are ten seconds or less, a hello, a quick check in. But some end in Spencer begging to jerk off, the phone clenched in one hand, the other stilled on his cock.

When they hit Chicago, Spencer's nervous. Not for the show, though it manifests itself that way, the drum sticks slippery in his hands. He plays hard, and the whole show passes in a blur.

He's been wondering for days how to get out of the hotel without having to straight out answer the guys, but by fantastic coincidence he's alone in the room, because Jon's gone to hang with some friends, and Spencer drew the short straw. Except this time, that's a good thing.

He waits till Brendon and Ryan are in their room, and then slips out from his own room, locking his door behind him. He has a hotel key in his pocket, alongside his own, and a text message from Bob with an address on it.

A ten minute cab ride later, with an eternity long elevator ride, and Spencer's unlocking the hotel door.

He steps in and it's empty, and he breathes aloud, either from relief or disappointment, he's not sure. He flips on a light, and there's a note taped to the mirror. He pulls it off, smiling a little.

 _Put the do not disturb sign on the door handle. Turn off your phone. Take off your clothes. Lie on the bed. Don't touch yourself._

The command of _wait_ is unsaid, because it's obvious. Bob's making him wait. Spencer follows his instructions, and by the time he's sitting on the bed, his cock is hard, and he's antsy, and ready to get fucked into the mattress.

He doesn't wait long before the door opens, and for a second he panics, thinking that it might be someone else, someone coming into the wrong room, and it takes all his willpower not to jump up, to cover himself.

"You came."

It's Bob, of course, and Spencer relaxes a little, until the door clicks closed and he hears the lock slide into place. Bob walks in, and when he comes close to the bed he stops and just-

Looks.

Because Spencer's spread out, his skin flushed with embarrassment, and he can't quite bring himself to meet Bob's eyes.

"I've been waiting for this for a fucking months, Spencer Smith." Bob says, and he reaches out, trailing his fingers down the skin on the inside of Spencer's arm. Spencer gasps, and arches into the touch. "You're so ready."

Spencer nods and Bob steps back, pulling his shirt off and tugging his belt out of the loops. He turns, tugging a chair so it's even with the bed, a few feet away. He sits in it, leaning back and watching.

"Touch yourself." Bob says, and Spencer bites back a moan. He knows better than to go for it, instead he gives a show that he knows Bob wants. Closing his eyes, he slides his hands down his chest, using his nails to pull up red scratch marks, before sliding his thumb over the head of his cock and inhaling sharply.

He starts slow strokes, and then opens his eyes and meets Bob's gaze. His breathing stutters and he stops stroking himself, because he's worried he might come just from this. Bob smirks.

"C'mere." Bob says, and he spreads his legs, the invitation obvious. Spencer sits up, sliding forward on the bed and then walking over to Bob. He kneels down and doesn't touch, waiting.

Bob lifts a hand, dragging it through Spencer's hair and then tilting his head up. He leans in, brushing his lips against Spencer's, barely touching.

"Suck me off, Smith."

Spencer's fumbles to undo Bob's button fly, and tugs his pants down with his boxers. He sits back on his heels while Bob lifts his legs out of his pants and then kicks them away. Bob leans back again, and he looks cool and calm, but his cock is hard and Spencer can't wait, can't stop, he wants to-

He leans in and runs his tongue over the head of Bob's cock, teasing. He bends lower, licking a long stripe up from the base to the tip, and then Bob's hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling. When Spencer opens his mouth, taking Bob's cock in deeper, Bob holds him there until Spencer moans, and then Bob pulls him back, not off, but enough so Spencer can breath. Then back down, and Bob's hips thrust up, and Bob's fucking Spencer's mouth, and all Spencer can do is take it, run his tongue along the head when Bob pulls him back, and moan when Bob fucks deep into his mouth.

Bob tugs his hair, hard, and Spencer pulls off his cock, gasping.

"You are really, really good at that." Bob says, and he gives Spencer a little push, and Spencer sits back on his heels. "Do you do that a lot? Get down on your knees for people?"

Spencer's cock twitches and he rolls back on his heels, standing up, glaring a little at Bob.

"So what if I do?" He says, and Bob looks up at him, a little amused. It's the first thing Spencer's said tonight, and his voice sounds rough (because of Bob's cock hitting the back of his throat) and he crosses his arms.

Bob stands up, and Spencer doesn't move, and it puts them face to face, and Spencer, to his credit, manages to keep eye contact, even when Bob's cock brushes against his, and he feels himself shiver.

Bob watches him, waiting for a moment and then he leans in, slow and sure and kisses Spencer, his tongue sliding along Spence's lower lip and then the kiss changes, and Bob's hands are at Spencer's hips, pushing him back while he bites at his lower lip.

He gets Spencer pressed against the wall, and then he pulls back.

"Touchy subject?" Bob says, and Spencer licks his lips, refusing to answer. Bob wraps his hand back in Spencer's hair and presses him against the wall.

He keeps a tight grip on Spencer's hair with one hand and he slides his other hand down Spencer's jaw, running his thumb across Spencer's lower lip. Spencer opens his mouth, and his tongue flicks out, teasing Bob, who gives a low chuckle before letting Spencer suck on two of his fingers.

"Get them nice and wet, Spencer," Bob says, and Spencer runs his teeth against the fingers and Bob hisses. "That's all you're getting for lube."

Spencer's eyes widen and he tongues at Bob's fingers, getting them wetter. Bob tugs his fingers out, and he turns Spencer around, wasting no time in getting a finger inside him. Spencer takes a step back, bending over and spreading his legs wider. When Bob slides a second finger in, Spencer drops his head between his arms and moans.

"Bob-" Spencer says, and Bob twists his fingers and Spencer moans.

"Tell me what you want, maybe you'll get it."

"Bob, please. Please-"

"What?"

"I need you to fuck me, please, jesus, please." Spencer says.

Bob pulls his fingers out, and when he leaves, Spencer whimpers and turns around, leaning on the wall because he's not entirely sure his legs can hold him. Bob's tearing open a condom package and then he's back in Spencer's space, kissing him and then tugging Spencer's legs up, around his waist, and Spencer's pressed against the wall, and there's the slow burn of Bob's cock sliding into him and then Bob stops fucking moving, and Spencer closes his eyes and whimpers again.

"Ride me, fuck yourself on my cock." Bob says, and Spencer shudders and wraps his legs around Bob's waist, bracing his arms against the wall while he lifts himself up and then drops back down, and Bob's cock hits right there-fuck yes- and Bob braces him up so that he can lift himself easier and soon he's fucking himself onto Bob. "Jerk yourself off." And Spencer wraps a hand around his cock and when Bob leans and bites his collarbone, sharp and painful, Spencer comes and he moans out Bob's name, and covers his own hand and Bob's chest in come.

Spencer wraps his arms around Bob's shoulders and Bob presses him tighter against the wall, fucks into him, hard and fast and Spencer moans again, his breath coming in gasps. Bob lasts about three more strokes before he comes, groaning.

-

The next morning, Spencer's phone buzzes for times before he wakes up and grabs it, wincing as he stretches. He snorts and then turns the phone off, tossing it on the night table and curling back up against Bob, who puts a hand on Spencer's hip, pulling him in possessively.

"Who was it?"

"It's four texts from your rhythm guitarist. Who apparently thinks you're my bitch."

"Fucking hell."


End file.
